What Price Love
by smacky30
Summary: Written for the cmexchange at Livejournal. Emily is kidnapped and the team rushes to find her. What does Dave do when the Ambassador won't pay the ransom? Set after 5x03 Reckoner slightly spoilerish .


**A/N: **Many thanks to mingsmommy and losingntrnslatn for their mad beta skills. I could never do anything without them.

**Disclaimer: **Not mine.

**December 22, 2009 - 8:30 pm**

_What the hell…?_ Emily Prentiss' eyes fluttered open as she swallowed back the bile in her throat. Silently, she took stock of her situation. Everything seemed to be in its proper place, but she couldn't seem to make her arms or legs move. She tried to open her mouth to draw in a deep breath but found her lips sealed shut. Terror rose in her chest and Emily fought to push it back.

_Don't panic. It's just tape. Breathe through your nose. _Slowly, she talked herself back from the edge. _That's it. In. Out. In. Out. _

She lifted her head and the entire room swam around her, while her stomach did a slow flip. Squeezing her eyes shut, Emily drew in long, slow breaths, riding out the ensuing wave of nausea. Once again she opened her eyes and took stock of her situation. The side of her head throbbed and her vision was blurry. The headache, if something so vicious could be labeled a mere headache, pounded through her skull and down the back of her neck. Her ankles were taped to the legs of the chair she was sitting in. Duct tape was wound around her torso and upper arms, holding her tightly to the back of the chair. And her wrists were secured to the arms of the chair. She couldn't move anything other than her head and that was a really bad idea.

The sounds of cooking came from across the room and the smell of roasting meat filled the air. Emily gagged as the odor reached her. "You know, the real secret is to use really low heat. If you cook it too fast it's tough." Jefferson Anders turned to look at her. "I don't like my meat tough. How about you?"

Emily struggled against the tape binding her and tried to speak through the strip of tape covering her mouth. Her words came out as nothing more than muffled gibberish.

"I'll take that as a no." He grinned. "I'd offer you some wine, but..." his shrug was casual, negligent.

**December 23, 2009 – 9:35 am**

The door to Hotch's office flew open and he rushed out, Erin Strauss on his heels. "Morgan! Reid! Conference room, now!" He pressed his phone to his ear and hurried along the mezzanine in the direction of Rossi's office. "J.J., call Garcia and have her meet us in the conference room. We have a case."

When the team was gathered, Hotch cleared his throat and ran a shaky hand through his hair. "Okay everybody, Director Strauss is here because we have a new case that came to us through her."

"Hold on," Morgan looked around. "Where's Prentiss?"

Rising from her chair, Erin Strauss raised a perfectly groomed eyebrow. "That's why we're here, Agent Morgan. I received a call from Ambassador Prentiss half an hour ago. It seems that Agent Prentiss has been kidnapped."

"What?" Morgan shook his head.

"The call came in to the Embassy in Dubai at 5:15 pm local time. The caller claimed to have abducted Agent Prentiss and demanded ten million dollars in ransom." Strauss looked around the table. "We have twelve hours to find her. Actually, eleven," she said with a glance at her watch.

Hotch muttered a curse under his breath. "Okay. Time isn't on our side people. Our first order of business is figuring out who may have taken Prentiss. I need to know if she's mentioned anything to any of you. No matter how insignificant."

"Um…sir?" Garcia broke the silence that had descended on the room. "I…I think she had a date last night."

**ooooooooooooo**

His head was spinning, his thoughts careening around inside his skull like those little lottery balls inside the mixer. _Kidnapped? _David Rossi plucked the word out of the vortex of his mind. Turning it over and over, he examined it from all sides before its meaning finally floated to the surface. _Gone. Abducted. Missing. _

"Agent Rossi?" Strauss' stern, condescending voice cut through the noise in his head and he jerked around to look at her. "Are you still _with_ us?"

He hated the way she sneered his name, like he was something she wanted to scrape off the bottom of her shoe. But he didn't have time to take the bait today so he simply nodded. Doing his best to keep his voice steady, Rossi asked, "Did the Ambassador ask for proof of life?"

From her seat, J.J. used the remote to activate the projector. And image of Emily filled the screen at the front of the room. The only thing visible above the front page of The Washington Times was her face. Wide eyed and pissed off, with duct tape covering her mouth, Emily stared stonily at the camera. Rossi's eyes skated over every feature. No bruises or cuts or scratches. _She didn't fight him? Why didn't she fight him? _

Strauss' voice once again interrupted his thoughts. "We're fairly sure she's still in the area based on the newspaper."

Garcia read something on her computer screen. "The Times has a circulation of about eighty-three thousand, not including the vending machines. They hold about twenty-five papers each so that could add an additional five thousand papers into the mix."

"Add to that," Spencer spoke up, "the time difference between Dubai and DC is eight hours. If the papers hit the stands at six a.m. and this picture was taken sometime around nine a.m. she could be up to three hours outside the city in any direction."

Never taking his eyes off the picture of Emily, Rossi said, "Did she mention a name for this guy she had a date with?"

Unable, or unwilling, to meet his gaze, Garcia kept her eyes glued to her screen. "No, sir. And she didn't really tell me she had a date. I overheard her talking on the phone. Not that I was trying to listen or anything," she hurriedly added. "But she was getting coffee and I walked in and…"

Rossi could feel his blood pressure rising. His jaw was clenched so tight he was beginning to fear for the safety of his teeth. "Just fucking spit it out."

"Dave…" Hotch was half way out of his chair when Rossi waved him off.

Shooting Rossi a heated look, Morgan placed a hand on her arm. "It's okay, Baby Girl. I don't think she's gonna mind if you were eavesdropping. Just tell us what you heard."

"She told whoever was on the phone that she was leaving work at five and that she would be over about seven." Garcia drew in a shuddering breath. "But her voice was really low and when she saw me she blushed, so, I thought it was…" She trailed off but her eyes were on Rossi.

Dragging a hand over his beard, Rossi swallowed back his urge to scream. He wanted to explain to Garcia, with her huge accusing eyes, that it should have been him Emily had a date with. But it wasn't, because he was a world class idiot who didn't know what he had until she told him to have fun fucking a ghost and walked out the door. "What time was this?"

"I'd just finished running that search you asked for, sir, and I needed some coffee. I guess that was about three or four yesterday." She looked up and added, "I can check the time that I sent the email, because it was right before I went for coffee."

Hotch nodded. "That would be good, Garcia. Go ahead and get started on a list of everybody in Prentiss' call log from yesterday afternoon. And pull a list of subscribers to The Times."

"Aye, aye, sir." She stood, gathered her things and hurried from the room.

"Reid, I want you with Garcia. We need to cross reference the owners of those phones with the subscribers' addresses as soon as Garcia pulls them to see if anything pops. Morgan, J.J., I need the two of you to go to Prentiss' place. And Dave, you're with me."

"Uh, Hotch, the odds of…" Reid began what Rossi was sure would turn into one of his long, rambling explanations of why they would never be able to match the owner of the phone with a subscriber to The Times.

"We have to start somewhere." Hotch dismissed Reid's objection and the younger man, along with Morgan and J.J., left the room.

Rossi knew he couldn't just sit there and do nothing, waiting on somebody else to find her. "I should go with J.J. Let Morgan stay here. I'd know," he swallowed the lump in his throat, "I'd know if anything is missing."

"And just how would you know that, Agent Rossi?" Strauss' voice reminded him of her presence. Then she held up a hand. "Dammit, I thought you might have outgrown such adolescent behavior."

Turning on her, his voice dripping with every ounce of disdain in his body, he snarled, "My behavior is not the problem right now. Emily is missing, and you need to get your priorities straight, Erin."

"Dave! Let's go!" The thread of steel in Hotch's voice brooked no argument. Rossi turned and followed him from the room.

**December 23, 2009 – 10:10 am**

"I'm only going to ask this once." Hotch waved Rossi toward the chairs in front of his desk. "Are you going to be able to work this?"

Ignoring the chairs, he walked over to look out the window. The view was the west parking lot. Not much to look at, but the idea that she was out there somewhere gave him hope. "I'll be fine."

Hotch stepped up beside him and held out a tumbler. "Drink this."

Rossi gave him an incredulous look. "It's ten o'clock in the morning."

"You look like you could use it." Hotch shrugged. "When did you two…split up?"

Swallowing the bourbon in a single gulp, Rossi let the liquor warm him. "Since we got back from Long Island." When Hotch merely stared out the window into the weak winter sunlight, he added, "She thinks I'm in love with Emma."

Hotch raised an eyebrow, "Aren't you?"

"No." Rossi ran a hand through his hair and heaved a sigh. "I loved her. But I haven't been _in love_ with Emma for a very long time."

"Well, when this is over, you can clear that up with Emily." Hotch moved back to his desk and sat down. "Right now, I need you to focus. No more outbursts like the one with Strauss. We're going to need everybody if we're going to find her in time."

Walking over, Rossi sank into a chair. "We have to find her. So let's stop wasting time."

**December 23, 2009 – 10:37 am**

Emily floated to consciousness again. She was pretty sure she had a concussion, because she couldn't seem to keep her grasp on the here and now for more than a few minutes at a time. She had been drifting in and out for hours but the fuzziness seemed to be clearing even if the headache was still making her wish her head would fall off.

_This is the last time I let my mother set me up with someone,_ Emily promised herself. A few weeks ago, Elizabeth had called and guilted Emily into going out with the friend of a son of one of her political cronies. Despite her misgivings, Emily agreed to meet the man for drinks. Surprisingly, he was a very nice guy, not to mention being witty, well read, handsome and not intimidated by her intellect or her job. He wasn't Rossi but, then again, that was the whole point.

Drinks led to a couple of dinners and then a movie. She saw no harm in agreeing to let him cook dinner for her. Now…now she was taped to a chair in his kitchen, at least she assumed it was his kitchen, while he calmly sipped a cup of coffee and flipped through the morning paper.

_If I ever go on another date, I'm having Garcia vet him first. _The thought of Garcia brought to mind the rest of the team and that, of course, included Rossi. She _so_ wanted to blame him for this. After all, if he weren't still in love with a dead woman, she wouldn't be here now. Instead, she'd be sitting at her desk in the BAU, pleasantly sore from having really incredible sex with the world's biggest moron. A moron she loved and was doing her best to get over.

After taking her picture holding the morning paper, Jeff had removed the duct tape from her mouth. Now, Emily spoke quietly, trying vainly not to split the raw skin on her lips. "You don't really think my mother is going to pay the ransom, do you?"

Glancing up, he shrugged. "You're her child. Her only child. Of course she'll pay."

Barking out a laugh, she shook her head. "My mother is a politician first and foremost. And the U.S. Government has strict rules about playing ball with people like you."

Anger flashed in his eyes and he shoved to his feet. The blow caught her off guard, snapping her head back. "What do you know about people like me?" She tasted blood and gingerly ran a tongue along her bottom lip. "One more word, bitch, and I'll put that tape back on."

**December 23, 2009 – 10:45 am**

"Ambassador Prentiss, do you have any idea who Emily may have been dating?" Hotch glanced up, his eyes filled with a warning Rossi understood all too well.

Elizabeth drew in a deep breath then spoke in a shaky voice. "Emily and I don't talk about such things. She has her own life."

Rossi gripped the arms of the chair and kept his mouth tightly closed, but inside he was seething. He knew exactly how little Emily talked to her mother about anything. The few exchanges he'd overheard were stilted, as if they were two acquaintances with very little, if anything, in common. When Hotch raised an eyebrow at Elizabeth's statement, Rossi simply nodded.

Hotch rubbed a hand over his eyes and shook his head. "She never mentioned anything about having plans? Even with friends?"

"Wait." The ambassador drew in a sharp breath. "I know she had a date for drinks a few weeks ago because I arranged it."

Rossi leaned forward. "Who was he? Do you have a name?"

"Let me check." He could hear her typing, her fingernails clicking on the keyboard. He could see her there, cool and unruffled while her daughter was at the mercy of some psycho and he wanted to break her, destroy her poise, force her to be human.

"Hurry up. Hurry up." Rossi muttered, ignoring Hotch when he waved a silencing hand.

"Here it is." She paused. "I sent her an email on November first and asked if she would be willing to meet a friend of Giles Willoughby's son for drinks."

"Deputy Secretary of State Willoughby?" Hotch looked like he wanted to throw up at the thought of the political nightmare this was about to turn into.

"Just how many Giles Willoughby's do you know, Agent Hotchner?"

Ignoring the barb, Hotch asked, "Do you have the friend's name? Or a way to get in touch with him?"

"His name is Jeff. Other than that the only thing I know is that he is friends with Robert, Giles' son."

Rossi opened his mouth, but Hotch cut him off. "We'll find him. Now, we need to discuss what you're going to do about the ransom. Do you need help gathering the money? We can make things easier for you."

Her silence told Dave what she was going to say even before she spoke. "I won't be paying the ransom."

"What do you mean you're not going to pay?" Rossi's voice was low, dangerous. He could feel his heart pounding in the top of his head, in the tips of his fingers and he wondered vaguely how close he was to having a stroke. "This is your daughter we're talking about."

"I'm well aware of that fact, Agent Rossi." The Ambassador's words were shaky but resolute. "Despite what you may think of me, I love my daughter. However, as an emissary of the United States government, I cannot ignore their policy in these matters."

Standing, Rossi braced his hands on Hotch's desk and leaned over the phone as if he could intimidate her from half way around the world. "Fuck policy. Emily's life is at stake."

Before he could say anything more, Elizabeth spoke. "I would love to debate this issue with you, but there are more pressing matters at hand. In case you haven't heard, _my daughter_ has been kidnapped."

Cutting the connection, Hotch said, "Dave, if you can't control yourself, I'll send you home."

"I'll pay it." The words tumbled out of their own accord. As soon as he said them he realized how much he meant them. He'd do whatever it took, pay whatever it took to get her back. No amount of money was too great. "It'll take me some time to get the cash together, but I can do it."

**December 23, 2009 – 11:00 am**

"What do you have, Garcia?" Hotch leaned over the phone, bracing his hands on his desk.

Garcia's offbeat, rapid fire delivery could, on a good day, be hard to follow. Today she was practically normal. "First thing, sir, Emily's phone is off the grid. He must have removed the battery. Second, Robert Willoughby works for a company called Riverside Technologies in Glen Echo, Maryland. I sent the address to your Blackberry."

"What about criminal? Financial?" Rossi demanded.

"I'm on that. His record's clean. Not even a parking ticket in the last five years." She paused and he could hear the click of keys as she worked her magic. "Financials look clean, but I'll keep digging."

"Thanks, and get back to us when you have something, Penelope." Hotch cut the connection and looked up at Rossi. "Let's go."

"Hold up," Morgan spoke from the doorway. "We didn't find anything at her place." He ran a hand over his head as he moved into the room. "Nothing out of place. No sign of a disturbance. Not a clue about where she was going. It's totally clean."

"Fuck," Rossi muttered and turned to pace the width of Hotch's office.

"But," Morgan's tone stopped him in his tracks, "there were some things left behind…by a man. Cologne, a pair of jeans, a shirt pajamas and underwear all in a box in the closet. There was also a set of dog bowls in the laundry room even though we all know Prentiss doesn't have any pets."

Rossi simply watched him, waiting for the rest of it.

"The clothes looked really familiar. I recognized the scent of the cologne. When you put that together with the dog bowls it only adds up to one thing." Morgan's eyes were stony, unyielding. "Why are your things in Emily's house, Rossi?"

"Morgan…" Hotch warned, "now is not the time."

"Then when is the time?" Morgan snapped. "Your clothes are hanging in her closet, man. I don't think that's because your washer is fucked up. How can you be objective? How can you not put Emily in danger by being involved in this if you can't do the job?"

"I love her," he said simply. "I can't _not_ be involved."

**December 23, 2009 – 11:30 am**

Emily glanced at the clock. She had been sitting in the same spot now for about fifteen hours. Her feet and hands throbbed from lack of movement. She was stiff and tired and hungry and, if she was willing to admit it, scared. Nobody knew where she was or who she was with. Hell, _she_ didn't even know who she was with. She had no idea if this was even his house. But all her training told her it wasn't.

"Can I have some water?" Her tongue flicked out in an attempt to wet her dry lips.

Over the past couple of hours he had become more and more agitated, finally leaving his chair to pace the brick floor of the kitchen. Now he stopped and shot her an amused look. "Are you sure you want to risk that considering your current condition?"

Emily blushed furiously. She had asked repeatedly to be allowed to use the restroom but he refused. Sometime after hour eight, she lost the battle. Her damp pants and the stench of urine were constant reminders of that little bit of humiliation. But bladder control problems aside, she really needed to stay hydrated. "I'll have to take my chances."

She watched as he shrugged and pulled a glass from a cabinet, filling it at the sink. "I take it that Jefferson Anders isn't your real name." Emily flexed her fingers, wincing as the skin stretched painfully across the knuckles of her swollen digits.

"Rob told me you were smart, but I don't think he realized just how smart." He carried the water over and held it while she took several long, grateful sips.

"Thank you." Emily drew in a deep breath. "So, what happens next?"

"What do you think happens, Emily?" He slid into the chair across from her. "Maybe me and you can take mama's money and run away."

Recognizing the sarcasm in his voice, Emily simply shook her head. "I've seen your face, money or no money, what happens to me?"

Slowly, a grin spread over his face. "You want to know if this is your day to die?"

**December 23, 2009 – 12:45 pm**

The building was a concrete and glass box in a long line of concrete and glass boxes. The only thing setting this office park apart from thousands of others across the country was a view of the Potomac and the Virginia countryside.

The offices of Riverside Technologies were on the top floor of the three story building. Christmas music filtered out of hidden speakers and a fake tree that had seen one too many uses occupied a corner of the reception area. The receptionist wore a set of reindeer antlers with bells hanging from them, and they tinkled merrily when she looked up.

"Can I help you?" She let her eyes slide appreciatively over Rossi and gave him a big smile.

Flipping open his badge, he said, "Supervisory Special Agents Rossi and Hotchner, FBI. We're here to see Rob Willoughby."

Smile fading a little, she reached a hand nervously toward her antlers before dropping it to the phone. "I-I'll tell him you're here. Just a moment."

**ooooooooooooo**

Rob Willoughby's corner office looked out over the gray waters of the river and the denuded trees of the Turkey Run Recreation Area.

Rossi glanced out at the acres of wilderness, remembering the day he and Emily had spent wandering along the trails that rambled through the forested acres. The ache that had taken up residence in the center of his chest only intensified when he thought about the way her ponytail bounced as she walked and how the sunlight glinted on her hair and how he had pinned her against a tree and kissed her until he couldn't think. Hotch's voice jerked him back to the present.

"Mr. Willoughby…"

"Please, call me Rob."

"Rob," Hotch gave a brief nod. "We are looking for this woman." He handed over his Blackberry and Rossi knew there would be a picture of Emily on the screen.

The man studied the image carefully before passing the device back to Hotch. "She looks familiar."

"Her name is Emily Prentiss." Rossi watched him carefully for a reaction, recognizing the moment the name clicked.

"Wait. She works for the FBI." Confusion clouded the man's elegant features. "Why are you looking for her? And why do you think I would know where she is?"

"It seems that Ambassador Prentiss set her up with a friend of yours as a favor to your father. We need to get in touch with him." Hotch's voice was calm. Only someone who knew him would detect the tension underlying his words.

"My father set her up with Jeff, but he told me it didn't work out." He squirmed a little in his chair. "He said she…uh…she was too _uptight_ for his tastes."

Rossi's hands clenched so tightly on the arms of the chair that he was sure he was going to crush the wood into splinters. "Who is Jeff?" The words came out on a hiss.

"Uh," the man blinked, apparently startled by his vehemence, "Jefferson Anders. He works here. With me." He shook his head slightly. "But he's not here today."

**December 23, 2009 – 1:15 pm**

The house was empty and had been for quite a while according to a neighbor. They had nothing. Not a witness. Not a clue. Nothing. And Dave was going out of his mind. Slowly, inexorably going crazy.

"Dammit," he pounded the steering wheel. "We need a break on this. Where the hell is she?"

Hotch heaved a deep sigh, his head falling back against the head rest. "Hopefully we'll get a hit off the prints from his office. Garcia is running Jefferson Anders through every database available. We'll find him."

"Come on, Aaron. This isn't my first time." Dave stopped for a light and held up a hand, ticking off points on his fingers. "The cell phone was a throw away. The name is false. The house is empty. No way are this guy's prints are in the system."

**December 23, 2009 – 2:00 pm**

"Why me?" Emily watched her captor as he checked the time on his cell phone once again.

Turning, he shook his head. "Ever the agent, Emily?"

She had no response to that. It was the truth. Compartmentalization or not, she was never able to completely turn off the agent in her head. Maybe that's why she couldn't believe she hadn't seen this coming. Once again, her thoughts came back to Rossi. Being with him hadn't interfered with the job. Being without him might turn out to be a different story.

"I'm just curious." She tried to shrug but the tape held fast. "You could've picked anybody. Why me?"

"Honestly?" Emily nodded and he continued. "It's about the money. This isn't personal. Don't flatter yourself into thinking it is."

"Okay." She watched him, noting the fine sheen of sweat on his face, the slight tremor in his hands. "You know, it's not too late to stop this."

His laughter was hollow, forced. "Forget it. Your bullshit FBI training won't work here. I know what you're trying to do and I'm not falling for it."

**December 23, 2009 – 2:30 pm**

"How the hell could she go out with some guy she didn't even know?" Rossi mumbled as he poured yet another cup of coffee.

"Maybe because she needed to." J.J. stepped up beside him, softening her words with a tired smile. He looked exhausted and worried and…lost. Something she would never have imagined in a million years.

"Are Morgan and Reid the only two who didn't know?" He took a sip from his cup and leaned back against the counter.

Stirring creamer into her cup, J.J. shook her head. "Morgan wasn't looking and Reid is…Reid." She took a sip, grimaced and wondered at the age of the brew before turning to add more creamer. "I may not be a profiler but I can spot a woman in love from a mile away. And I can spot a broken heart from two."

"Dammit." Rossi ran a shaky hand through his hair and her heart ached for him. "I never meant to hurt her."

"I know you didn't." She watched him over the rim of her cup, a knowing look in her eyes. "I've seen the way you look at her."

With a tired smirk, he asked, "And just how do I look at her?"

"When you think nobody's watching? Like you want to eat her with a spoon." His laugh, although short lived, was just what she was hoping to hear. "I don't really know what happened between the two of you, but I believe she knows how you feel."

"Does she?" He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. When he opened them, they were suspiciously bright. "We all know I don't have the best track record."

J.J. chuckled. "That's an understatement." Laying a hand on his arm, she gave him a reassuring squeeze. "We'll find her, Dave."

**December 23, 2009 – 2:45 pm**

"The money isn't important," Rossi barked into the phone. "If I have to liquidate all the stock then I will." He listened for a moment then said, "Look, I don't care how you do it, just get it ready."

Hanging up, he dropped the phone on the desk and buried his face in his hands. "Fucking bankers. It's always about the bottom line."

"You don't have to do this." Hotch spoke from the doorway of Rossi's office.

Looking up, he glared at his friend. "Yes I _do_."

Holding up his hands in a gesture of surrender, Hotch moved into the room. "How are you holding up?"

Rossi drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I've had better days."

"We all have." Hotch pinched the bridge of his nose. "The Ambassador is on stand-by. The phones are set up in the conference room. They've been tested and everything's in order. We're just waiting on the call."

"He only has a couple of hours. Should be calling anytime." Pushing up from his chair, Rossi said, "Let's go. I'd rather wait in there."

Hotch didn't move. "I don't want you in there." His voice was flat, devoid of emotion, the voice he used when he was in full supervisor mode.

Rossi was half way to the door. "What?"

"You've been on the edge all day, Dave. I can't take that risk." The tone of his voice, the look in his eyes both told Dave this was not open for negotiation.

"I would never put Emily at risk."

"Not intentionally. But you need to let me handle this the way I think best." With a wry grin, Hotch said, "In case you forgot, I am in charge."

Rossi stared at Hotch for a moment and fought back the urge to pound him bloody. "I'm making the drop. No funny shit in there on the phone. I'll have the money and I'm paying."

"Thanks." Hotch turned and left Dave's office.

**December 23, 2009 – 4:30 pm**

The waiting was endless. Each second stretched out like silly putty in the hands of a toddler. Time drawing out, warping into something unrecognizable then snapping back into some semblance of itself. She had tried closing her eyes, ignoring the clock that hung above the kitchen sink. But that only made it worse. Fighting back tears of frustration and pain, she strained to listen to Jeff's conversation.

She could only make out a few words, but it seemed as though he was talking about the ransom drop. Fear twisted in her gut. Her mother was never going to pay. If Emily had learned one thing growing up, it was that her mother valued her political position more than anything. When she was young she hadn't understood it at all. When she was a teenager she thought she understood it all too well. Now, she had learned to just accept it. Loving her mother and liking her were sometimes two very different things.

With the phone pressed to his ear, Jeff approached. "You've got 30 seconds." He held the phone out. "No funny stuff. Got it?" She nodded and he pressed the device to her ear.

"Hello?" Her voice cracked around the two syllables.

"Emily?" It was J.J.'s voice coming through the speaker. "Are you okay?"

Tears filled her eyes, stung her throat, burned in her chest. "Yeah."

"We're coming. Dave has the ransom together and we're going to get you out of this." Soft and gentle, soothing, J.J. talked to her.

"Oh, God." The sob ripped through her and Jeff snatched the phone away.

"That was very touching," he said, "and here Emily thought you wouldn't pay to save her life."

_They're coming. _The words set up a slow pulse in her brain. _Dave has the money and they're coming. Wait? _Dave _has the money? _

She had no way of knowing if her mother was in the states or still in Dubai. Honestly, it didn't matter. Her team, her friends were coming to get her. And up until that moment she wasn't sure she'd ever known what it meant to have a family.

**December 23, 2009 – 5:15 pm**

The back door of the bank opened and Dave stepped out carrying an extra large duffle bag that was practically bursting at the seams. He was followed by an armed security guard who carried an identical bag. Hotch opened the rear door of Dave's truck and helped the two men load the bags onto the seat on the passenger's side. Erin Strauss watched impassively from her spot behind the driver's seat.

"It's amazing how much that kind of cash weighs." Rossi said as he climbed behind the wheel.

Hotch glanced at his friend. He seemed calm. At least he seemed calmer than he had been all day. His hands were steady on the wheel, his eyes clear and focused as he steered out of the alley and into rush hour traffic. Glancing over his shoulder, Hotch watched Strauss as she stared unseeing out at the crowded, slush covered street.

"Ma'am? Are you okay?" For just a moment Hotch wondered why he couldn't drop the formality given the situation.

She looked at him and then at the back of Dave's head, her expression inscrutable. Then she turned to stare out the window again. "She wouldn't pay," she murmured.

**December 23, 2009 – 6:00 pm**

She fell when she tried to stand. Her legs were numb, her feet almost lifeless, and with just a hint of her body weight, her knees buckled.

"Get up." Jeff nudged her with his foot while pointing a gun in her face.

Emily wanted to. She wanted to stand up and walk out on her own. To show him she wasn't beaten. But her legs and arms refused to do what she told them to. "I can't," she glared up at him defiantly.

"Thought you couldn't wait to see Mommy Dearest again. Now get the fuck up." His foot connected with her side once again, this time not as gently as the first.

Sucking in a breath, Emily rolled away from him. "Don't you think I would if I could?" she asked, hating the tremor in her voice.

"Dammit! You're turning in to more trouble than you're worth." He reached down, grabbing her arm and wrenching her ruthlessly to her feet. "I'm working on a deadline here."

The pain in her stiff, blood starved muscles had Emily crying out. She kept her legs under her only by leaning most of her weight against her captor. The hard steel of the gun's barrel dug into her bruised ribs, making her suck in a sharp breath. Tears ran down her cheeks and her vision blurred around the edges but she held her head up and bit back on the moan that was rising up in her chest.

"Let's go." Jeff half carried, half dragged her to the door.

**December 23, 2009 – 6:12 pm**

The sheer vastness of Rock Creek Park made it a great place for the exchange. Almost eighteen hundred acres in the middle of the nation's capital, the park was entirely too big for them to close it off and it offered dozens of escape routes that would allow the unsub to simply be sucked up by the traffic of the city.

"Gotta give the guy points for planning this drop." Dave pumped the brake as the cars in front of him began to slow. The slippery roads were turning the usually intolerable rush hour into a nightmare.

Hotch nodded. "Yeah. Even with the park police and the District police backing us up, the odds of him being able to get away are in his favor."

"Exactly." Traffic slowed again and Rossi took half a second to glance at his watch. At this rate they were going to miss the deadline. "Come on!" he shouted. "Get the fuck outta the way!"

Hotch resisted the urge to tell Dave to calm down. He was feeling the strain of the day and could only imagine how the other man was able to hold it together at all.

When he'd first met Dave, the man was working his way through marriage number two. Six months after Hotch joined the BAU, Janelle had filed for divorce. Dave seemed…relieved. The divorce itself was a long, drawn out, bitter affair. The two fought over everything from alimony to linens. After witnessing more than one of those arguments, Hotch completely understood the reasons behind the split. However, the rumors which had been abundant before the divorce really started flying in its aftermath. If everything Hotch heard about Dave's sexual escapades was true, it was a miracle the man actually had time to work.

Another year or so after that, Dave retired to write full time. And he met wife number three. Hotch was never sure what happened between Dave and Becky. Honestly, it wasn't important. By the time the ink was dry on those divorce papers, she was just another chapter in the David Rossi legend.

Dave's return to the BAU had surprised Hotch. If truth be told, it surprised everybody. But after a few weeks, Dave really seemed to settle in. He began to open up to the rest of the team, asking for their opinions and listening when they answered. Hearing about Emily, Morgan and J.J. following Dave to Indianapolis, forcing their way into his cold case, explained a lot. Then he heard that Emily was the one leading the charge. And a little niggle took up residence in the back of his mind.

To be fair, Hotch didn't really believe the two of them simply fell into a relationship. It seemed more like a tenuous friendship at best. He noticed how Dave looked at Emily, but even he was guilty of a few second glances from time to time. They were men. It was only natural. Then the case with the exorcisms happened. And he realized there was more to their relationship than met the eye.

Making the turn onto Beach Drive, Rossi heaved a sigh and tried to relax. Tilting his head from side to side, he winced at the pull of the knotted muscles in his shoulders. "Where are Morgan and Reid?"

Though they had been over this a dozen times in the past two hours, Hotch once again gave Dave a rundown. "They're at the Horse Center waiting on our guy to make an appearance to pick up the money. We have unmarked cars at Grant and Glover, Glover and Military, and Glover and Ross." Holding up a hand to ward off the next question, Hotch continued. "They all have instructions to follow him until we have Emily. Then they'll move in."

Nodding, Rossi eased along the slippery road. "He has to know we'll be following him. He's not stupid."

"I agree. But we don't really have a choice." Hotch rubbed at his eyes, hoping to ease the headache that was throbbing just behind them. "He picked this place for a reason. We have to work with what we've been given this time out."

**December 23, 2009 – 6:38 pm**

It was snowing. Tiny wet flakes that stung when they hit her exposed skin. Looking around, Emily took in her immediate surroundings. Front row center of the Carter Barron Amphitheatre. Too bad the place was closed. Too bad she was tied to the seat, her hands and feet once again bound, duct tape covering her mouth.

The last time she'd been here was with Dave. He bought the tickets as a surprise, packed a cooler with sandwiches and his very own pasta salad. There was wine and fruit and lemon cream torte from The Cheesecake Factory. The food was delicious, the music amazing and the night…total magic. As the music swelled around them, he had wrapped his arm tightly around her shoulders and whispered in her ear, "You're so beautiful." And in that moment she believed him, she had actually felt beautiful.

_Thirty-six years I lived without him and now everything comes back to him in some way. _She shivered as the bitter cold seeped through the thin sweater and jeans she was wearing. _It was much warmer that night too. _Looking up, she squinted against the harsh bite of the snow. _Not a cloud in the sky either. How the hell did this happen? _

The shivering was worse now. And Emily knew that her body heat was slowly leaching away. Soon she would lose feeling in her hands and feet, her nose, her cheeks. Then it would spread until she didn't even feel the cold anymore, until she drifted off to sleep.

_No! I will not die out here! _Frantically she began to bounce her legs up and down, wiggling her toes inside her thin boots. Flexing her fingers, she ignored the bite of the nylon rope against her already abraded skin. Pain only meant she was still alive. Pain was her friend right now and she relished it.

**December 23, 2009 – 7:05 pm**

"Where is he?" Rossi snapped, his voice loud in the silent darkness. His patience had been thin all day but now it was almost non-existent.

After letting Hotch and Strauss out at the Beach Road entrance to the National Zoo, where a makeshift command center was set up, he had made the drop almost thirty minutes earlier. Ten million dollars placed in the exact spot the kidnapper demanded. No 'funny stuff'. Rossi simply left the bags, got back in the truck and drove away. Now he was parked at the Rolling Meadow Bridge, waiting on the guy to call with directions to Emily's location.

"We have movement." Morgan's voice was soft in his ear. "Car. No headlights. Entering the parking lot."

Several long seconds of silence followed and Rossi fought the urge to haul ass back to the horse park.

"He has the money." Morgan paused. "And he's out of here. Looks like he's headed toward Ross. I only got a partial on the tag. First three digits are seven, seven, eight. Too dark to see the rest. But the car is a late model Impala, black, four door."

Hotch's voice now. "Call Garcia. Give her what you have." Then, "Everybody, we need to know as soon as you spot him. Remember, do NOT attempt to stop him until I give the word. When you can get the rest of the plate call it in."

With every passing second the feeling of dread in Rossi's chest grew. Where the hell was Emily?

**ooooooooooooo**

"Hello?" Strauss pressed her phone to her ear.

"Who made the drop?" The man's voice was calm, almost amused.

Not bothering to disguise the slight tremor in her voice, she said, "My husband. The bags were too heavy for me to carry."

"I thought we had a deal."

"We did. _We do_." She hesitated for a moment, playing this the way she would if it were her child that was missing. "He was alone. He knew exactly where to leave the bags. Tell me where she is. Please." The last word was a little wobbly and she knew she sounded even more desperate than she felt.

"You know. I should be much more upset than I am. But honestly, there's no way you are going to catch me. I'm a ghost. I don't exist." His chuckle was quiet. "Tell _your husband_ that he can find Agent Prentiss at the amphitheatre."

**ooooooooooooo**

Slamming the truck in gear, Rossi negotiated a three-point turn and headed back along Morrow Drive as fast as the ice-slicked road would allow. _I'm coming, Emily. I'm coming. _The words played at a frantic pace just underneath the pounding of his heart.

Turning into the parking lot, he could hear the sirens in the distance and knew Hotch was sending a cruiser and an ambulance, but there was no way was he waiting on them. He was out of the truck almost before it stopped rolling, his shoes slipping as he ran toward the entrance to the amphitheatre.

"Emily!" Dave strained to listen over the chatter of Hotch in his ear. He yanked out the earpiece. "Emily!"

The hiss of tires behind had him looking over his shoulder in time to see Morgan and Reid jumping out of their SUV. "Can't find a way in," he called and Morgan turned back to get the ram.

It took only took one try to shatter the glass in one of the doors. He was sure there'd be hell to pay for that but he didn't care. Before Morgan could finish clearing the jagged glass from the door frame, Rossi was stepping through.

"Emily!" Her continued silence had his heart sitting in his throat. He strained his eyes against the darkness but he didn't see her.

Then Reid was at his elbow, handing him a flashlight. "Take this. It'll help."

Snatching the light from the younger man's grip, he began scanning the seats. _My God, it's so fucking cold, how long has she been out here? _He ruthlessly shoved the thought aside as he hurried down the steps, head twisting left and right, eyes searching for anything that even resembled a person.

Slipping, he grabbed the rail in the middle of the steps to keep himself from falling. "Dammit!" he muttered as he got his footing. Standing, he glanced toward the stage and saw her.

**ooooooooooooo**

"Emily!" Dave's voice reached her there on the edge of consciousness. And she struggled to open her eyes. "I'm coming. Hang on." She could hear him, his footsteps on the concrete, his muttered curse as he slipped on the icy steps.

"Emily!" He was closer and she forced her eyelids to move.

_Dave. _She could see him running toward her, the coat she bought him swirling around his legs. He had never looked better, her very own white knight in a camel hair coat. There was something she needed to ask him and she was pretty sure it was important, but couldn't remember what that might be. It really didn't matter anyway, he was here and she was safe.

Then he was touching her, his hands smoothing back her hair, sliding over her neck and shoulders and arms. And tears were running down her cheeks, tears she couldn't seem to hold back no matter how hard she tried.

With gentle fingers he pulled back the edge of the tape on her mouth. "This isn't going to feel good." She nodded and he pulled, reopening the split in her lip. "How long have you been out here?"

"I…I don't know." Her teeth were chattering. "So cold," she stuttered.

"I know, sweetheart. I know." He was working on the ropes now, using the penknife he carried in his pocket, cutting her arms free. Then he shrugged out of his coat and wrapped it around her.  
"I wet my pants." Emily managed to push the words out between trembling lips, even as she attempted to shrug the coat off. "I don't want you to mess up your coat."

Looking up from his position by her feet, Dave tucked the material around her. "Stop it. Do you think I give a damn about getting the coat dirty?" Cradling her face between his hands, he raised her eyes to his. "Do you think that there is anything…anyone… more important than you?"

Shrugging feebly, Emily pulled the coat tighter and let her eyes slide closed. Dave was here. Now she could sleep.

**December 24, 2009 – 8:30 pm**

The fire leapt and danced and the lights on the tree twinkled merrily. Emily, snuggled securely in Dave's lap, seemed to be ignoring both. Dave pulled her closer, relishing her weight. She felt so damned good, so right in his arms. One of his hands slid slowly up and down her arm while the other rested possessively on her thigh.

Sighing, he pressed a kiss to her hair. "Penelope Garcia is a genius. I don't care how weird she is."

Emily giggled. The DC cops had lost her kidnapper in the traffic around DuPont Circle. But thanks to one very talented computer genius, the car's GPS had helped them locate him. He was currently in a cell awaiting arraignment on a laundry list of charges.

"How's your hand?" She brought his knuckles to her lips, brushing a kiss over the bruised flesh.

Dave smiled and opened his eyes to look at her. "It's fine. I can almost bend my fingers."

Her chuckle was low and throaty. "How many days did you get off for that one, Agent Rossi?"

"A week." He shrugged. "It was worth it. More than worth it. Hell, if I'd known Hotch would only give me a week, I'd have hit the bastard more than once."

"Oh, my hero," she simpered, batting her eyelashes, her smile the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

Dave shook his head. "I'm nobody's hero."

She reached up and cradled his face, her thumb brushing along his cheekbone. "You're _my_ hero."

Leaning forward, she kissed him, a gentle press of her lips to his. The softest of sighs against his mouth. When she lingered, he deepened the kiss, teasing her lips open with his tongue, tasting her. He pulled back, his breath just a little unsteady.

"My God, Emily, what if I'd never had the chance to do that again?" He pulled her close, pressing her head to his shoulder. "I don't know what I would've done."

"Shhhhhhh." Her breath ghosted over his skin, warm and reassuring. "I'm right here."

Dave held her, breathing in the scent of her. She was soft and warm and so much a part of him that sometimes he couldn't seem to breathe. And he had denied that for longer than he wanted to think about. So he held her until the fire burned low, until he felt her yawn against his throat.

"We need to talk about it." He stroked a trembling hand over her hair. "About Emma."

"No, we don't." Emily sat up and gave him a soft, sad smile. "I get it. Really. And I can live with it."

Gripping her shoulders, he gave her a slight shake. "Emily, you don't get it at all." When she opened her mouth, he kissed her. Slow and deep and full of everything he was feeling. Pulling away, he ran a thumb over her bottom lip, gasping when she flicked her tongue out to taste him. "I'm an ass. I know I'm an ass and I know you deserve better. But I love you. And I'm not letting you go."

"Dave?" She was looking at him now, her eyes wide and confused.

"Hush. Let me say this." He tried to smile at her. "I spent my entire adult life comparing other women to Emma. Holding her up and thinking if they could do _this_ like Emma, if they would do _that_ like Emma, then they would be perfect."

Bitterness in her voice, Emily snapped, "Well, I'm pretty sure I'm not perfect."

"Stop it!" Dave held her tight. "I'm not finished." When she stopped squirming, he heaved out a deep sigh. "While we were on Long Island, I was surrounded by things so familiar that I couldn't help but think about Emma. And you want to know what I thought?"

She was silent for a long while, searching his face with huge, wounded eyes. "I'm not sure if I do or not."

He chuckled. "I kept thinking that if Emma had been more like _you, _then I would've married her all those years ago."

Emily was silent for so long he was beginning to wonder if she'd heard him. Then she wrapped her arms around his neck and said, "I love you, David Rossi. God help me, but I do."

Just like that, he was lighter. The weight of guilt and frustration that had been with him since she walked out his door two months earlier was gone. "I'm so sorry I hurt you." He brushed a hand over her back, loving she pressed into his touch. "Sorry I couldn't say what I should've said months ago. Sorry I gave you a reason to doubt how I feel about you."

Placing a hand over his lips, she simply shook her head. "And I'm sorry I didn't stick around and make you explain it to me before. I've just been," she shrugged, "second best for so long and I didn't want that from you. Didn't think I could stand it if that's all I'd ever get from you."

"You've never been second best. Not to me." He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

Emily kissed him then, sinking her teeth into his bottom lip before soothing it with her tongue, moaning into his mouth. She was like fire in his arms, hot and alive and just a little dangerous. When she lifted her head, she was smiling. "Take me to bed, Dave."

With a silent prayer of thanks, Dave did just that.


End file.
